[He wakes up on a stage, and there's a bright light shining down on him. He blinks a couple of times and lifts a hand to shield his face. It only takes seconds to register that there is a hospital bed a few feet away, a familiar looking chair set beside it. Confused, he sits up and rubs his hand over his face.
He has no idea what the hell is going on this time. He checks the network in time to catch the tail end of his inmate shouting in Latin, but before he can figure out anything beyond that, someone's grabbing his arm and pulling him up. He looks up at the nurse who's trying to usher him closer to the bed and he shakes his head, trying to protest that he isn't sick, he feels fine and there's no need for a hospital bed when he catches sight of the woman lying in the bed she's propelling him toward.
He freezes in his tracks, breath leaving his lungs as he stares.]
Mom?
[His voice is barely a whisper. He takes in the sight of all the machines around her that she's hooked up to and he pulls away from the nurse, moving closer to her, heart beating hard in his chest.]
Mom!
[There are tears in his eyes as he reaches for her hand and it takes him a second to realize that this isn't his mother. But she looks so much like her that it feels like his world has tilted on its axis. He shakes his head and looks back at the nurse, who is watching him closely and he doesn't understand what the hell is going on as she shoves a pile of papers into his hands. He looks down at them in confusion, stares at the words written there and feels his stomach turn.
What the hell was this?
He feels a wave of anger, of disbelief as he reads over the script, of the things that are written there, a piece of his life he's never shared with anyone, not even Scott. He feels sick and lost and confused and on the verge of being completely overwhelmed when he hears the scream. It's loud, louder than he's ever heard her scream before and he promptly drops the pages and runs for door.]
Lydia!
[He's not leaving his mother. It's not his mother. His mother has been gone for years, and now there is someone else who needs him. He's off and running as fast as he can, not even sure how he knows where to go. He's just following his gut.]
Spam -- Mezzanine?
He has no idea what the hell is going on this time. He checks the network in time to catch the tail end of his inmate shouting in Latin, but before he can figure out anything beyond that, someone's grabbing his arm and pulling him up. He looks up at the nurse who's trying to usher him closer to the bed and he shakes his head, trying to protest that he isn't sick, he feels fine and there's no need for a hospital bed when he catches sight of the woman lying in the bed she's propelling him toward.
He freezes in his tracks, breath leaving his lungs as he stares.]
Mom?
[His voice is barely a whisper. He takes in the sight of all the machines around her that she's hooked up to and he pulls away from the nurse, moving closer to her, heart beating hard in his chest.]
Mom!
[There are tears in his eyes as he reaches for her hand and it takes him a second to realize that this isn't his mother. But she looks so much like her that it feels like his world has tilted on its axis. He shakes his head and looks back at the nurse, who is watching him closely and he doesn't understand what the hell is going on as she shoves a pile of papers into his hands. He looks down at them in confusion, stares at the words written there and feels his stomach turn.
What the hell was this?
He feels a wave of anger, of disbelief as he reads over the script, of the things that are written there, a piece of his life he's never shared with anyone, not even Scott. He feels sick and lost and confused and on the verge of being completely overwhelmed when he hears the scream. It's loud, louder than he's ever heard her scream before and he promptly drops the pages and runs for door.]
Lydia!
[He's not leaving his mother. It's not his mother. His mother has been gone for years, and now there is someone else who needs him. He's off and running as fast as he can, not even sure how he knows where to go. He's just following his gut.]
Lydia!